This Year, Next Year

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At least you'll have happy memories.' Only those who've failed to experience the depths of personal grief can offer this facile platitude to one in mourning. And yet it happens all the time. To be charitable, the platitude springs from a desire to say something, yet having no idea what that something might be; and from a knowledge that no words are in fact adequate. Better, then to stay silent. What such ' comforters' signally fail to understand is the immediate and appaling pain such a seemingly kind remark can provoke. As Moira herself has succinctly put it: 'I don't want memories. I want the man.'